Fractured
by Ruby Rosetta Red
Summary: A pre and post ep fic of 'Untethered'. After the ambulance leaves Tates, there is an unforeseen complication. BA strong friendship. Rated T for one use of language. All thoughts and reviews appreciated. Final chapter now up.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a fic based on the ep 'Untethered'. I wrote the first two chapters before i saw the episode but once i'd seen it, i kept them in, so it's kind of a pre and post ep fic. It doesn't follow ep canon so it also could be classed as AU too. All errors, grammatical and otherwise are mine. The characters in this fic, Bobby, Alex and Capt. Ross are the property of Dick Wolf et al. The character of Michael Fisher is mine. I'm not sure what this fic actually is but i hope you like it. All reviews and thoughts as always are appreciated.

* * *

****Fractured.**

_**Fracture **__The act or process of being broken; a break, breach or split._

He wasn't surprised that his brother didn't make it to their mother's funeral. He had been kind of expecting it to be honest, the moment he'd explained to him that there was no money, no estate and definitely no inheritance, unless schizophrenia was classed as an inheritance, he'd seen the interest fade from his brother's traitorous eyes and he'd stood in the hospital corridor and watched him walk away. When he'd gone back to his mother's room, he'd seen how her eyes had travelled past him, fully expecting Frank to return. Bobby had mumbled an excuse that Frank was looking for a vending machine and would be back in a couple of moments but those moments turned into longer and he'd known with a sick sense of certainty that Frank Goren had disappeared into the ether once again.

He'd attended the service in a numb haze, essentially alone except for the presence of his partner and his boss and he'd been grateful in a small, barely perceptive way that they were there. They had offered condolences, Ross had told him to take all the time that he needed and Eames…_Alex_ had looked at him with concerned eyes and asked him if there was anything that he needed. _Yeah_, a cynical voice inside of him answered, _how about a double-barrelled shotgun so I could blow my stupid brother the fuck away?_ Instead he just shook his head, went back to his apartment and locked the door. Got lost in his grief and his torment and a nice bottle of Glenlivet.

Time seemed to pass with a sense of indeterminable slowness coupled with the feeling that every unbearable moment of his life was being stretched out. It felt as though every ounce of his grief, his anger and rage infected him instead of being absorbed and dealt with, and that was the thing, he couldn't deal with it. Instead it distilled inside of him and just sat there. He could feel it almost boiling inside of him and he wondered when it would erupt.

His grief made him vulnerable, almost dizzy and he found it hard to cope with. Logically he knew that his mother's passing should have been seen as a blessing. She had suffered with so much for so long and now she no longer had to. It was the bombshell she had left him with that caused this sense of all pervading pain, of betrayal. His childhood had never been a happy one to begin with but this…if nothing else, he had prided himself on the fact that he was Robert Goren, he knew who he was, that despite everything he and his mom had gone through, he'd had that sense of identity. Now it was all gone and he felt utterly lost and completely alone.

He had gone back to work, and his first case back hadn't been an easy one. It had opened up the old, partially healed scars of someone he had come to respect and admire very much. He had hated to be the one to put the pain in his partner's eyes, as the murder of her husband was re-opened. Alex had believed for a long time that her husband's murderer was behind bars, and that the clock was ticking down until the day a needle would be stuck in his arm. But of course it wasn't destined to be that easy and Bobby had to put away his grief and try to make her see and understand that however painful, justice had to be done. She hadn't been happy but she'd seen it. And justice had been done.

They settled into a working pattern that was, he hoped, a comfortable one. He had also hoped that their original camaraderie would begin to return and that some semblance of their previous, easier friendship would return but it didn't, not really. He thought that it was beginning to, until Leslie LeZard accused him of holding her back, that she would never achieve Captain with him hanging like an albatross around her neck. Why had her comment hurt so much? In the past, such comments had always bounced off his thick skin but hers had stuck and worked its way underneath like a burr. Alex's enigmatic response didn't help to calm matters either. It made him extra careful when he was around her; it made him wonder, to question her reasoning for still partnering him until that self questioning threatened to drive him crazy.

He watched her walk into the bullpen and there was a frown on her face. The first thought in his head was what had he done now? He knew that he had tested her patience and understanding during their last case. Lionel Schill and his wild child wannabe author had rubbed him the wrong way and he had exalted in the way he pushed and taunted, niggled and downright disrespected them both. It satisfied him in a way that much later ashamed him but once he'd started, he'd been unable to stop. There was still a slight chill between them even now, almost a month after the fact.

"You and I need to talk," she told him, pointing to an empty conference room.

Instantly he could see that she was uncomfortable. She stood in the middle of the small room, her hands on her hips, her head bent. As he closed the door behind him, she lifted her head and looked at him.

"What's up?" he watched as she took a deep breath and then folded her arms. A moment stretched out between them.

"I saw Frank…" she began and her voice faltered when she saw him frown.

"Frank? What….just now?" he interrupted .

"Yeah, just now, outside the building" she confirmed. His eyes darkened and he folded his arms and hunched his shoulders over.

"What did he want?" he demanded. Alex straightened her shoulders and regarded him steadily.

"To talk to you. He needs your help" A short laugh escaped from him then as he unfolded his arms and slowly shook his head in disbelief.

"He needs me? For what? To see how much he can hit me up for this time? I guess he didn't understand me the last time when I told him…" he reined his growing anger in.

"Damn it! He doesn't show up at our mother's funeral, I don't hear a word from him and he has the nerve to ask you…why couldn't he have come to see me himself?" his voice rose again.

"Maybe because he was afraid he'd get this kind of a reaction…" she reminded him. He looked at her.

"And he'd be right. Did he tell you… what the problem is, or is he hiding out somewhere?" Alex sighed again and pointed to a vacant chair.

"You need to sit down," she told him.

His head was lowered, his gaze fixed on his shoes when she told him about his nephew, his nineteen year old nephew who was in trouble and reaching out. She watched him as he looked at her, and she saw the blank shock in his eyes.

"He's nineteen, his name is Donny and he's scared Bobby…according to Frank he's really scared" her partner didn't immediately speak.

"According to Frank. Damn it." He suddenly straightened.

"He gave me this number…he asked me to give it to you" he watched Alex take a crumpled slip of paper out of her jacket pocket and hand it to him. Bobby looked at it and then stood up. He was already a million miles away, thinking about how to handle the situation.

"Bobby…" she called after him as he opened the door and headed out. He lifted his hand in reply and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Short chapter. Again, all errors, while unintentional, are my own.

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****Chapter Two:**

He nursed a cup of coffee and waited. He looked at his watch, his left foot beating a restless tattoo beneath the table. Frank had never been on time for anything and never would be. It irritated him more than it normally would, he knew exactly what his brother was like, so why was he getting all bent out of shape about it now? _Because there's someone else involved, someone I didn't know existed twenty four hours ago._ He picked up his cup, took a sip and took in his surroundings. A small coffee shop, starting to look a little worn about the edges but it was busy all the same. He guessed some people felt a little uncomfortable at the super polished stylised coffee chains popping up throughout the city. By the wide front window were worn but comfortable looking sofas where people could take their hot drinks and chill out with their friends, or alone with a newspaper or a good book. He heard the single chime of the shop bell and he looked up expectantly. It wasn't Frank. He sighed quietly. He rested his head on his palm and stared down at the muddy recesses of his coffee cup. He'd called the number Eames had given him, left a brief but succinct message.

He'd give him ten more minutes….

"Hey Bobby" he looked up and saw his brother standing there. Frank had never been overweight to begin with but the first thought that went through Bobby's mind was 'Jesus, he's lost weight'. There was a twitchy, edgy aura about him that he quickly recognised. Disappointment as well as anger flooded through him. Frank was using again.

"Frank. You're late" he watched his brother's paler eyes open a little wider. Bobby wasn't in the mood to accommodate him. He was past all of that now. If he tried really hard, he might even be able to forget his blood connection to him.

"Sorry…got caught up…" Frank stammered, still standing by the other vacant chair at the table.

"Uh-huh…" then he indicated the chair.

"Sit down" he told him and watched him as he pulled it out and sat down gingerly, on the edge as if he were about to flee at the earliest inclination.

"Your partner…she told you?"

"Yeah, she told me. A son, huh? Well you kept that piece of news quiet" he accused and Frank had the grace to lower his head.

"It's not something I'm proud of" he admitted quietly.

"What? The having a son and being a father part or the not telling anybody part?" he demanded and Frank's eyes widened again. Then he shrugged. Both of them watched a waitress approach with a coffee pot. She filled the cup in front of Frank and looked enquiringly at Bobby. He shook his head; he didn't want to extend this meeting for any longer than he had to. The waitress drifted away to attend to another customer.

"I was never the best father"

"Why am I not surprised?" Bobby muttered.

"I understand you have every reason to be mad at me Bobby…."

"You _understand?_ You walked away from mom when she needed you…us…the most. The minute you realised that there was no money then you were gone. I never saw you at the funeral…"

"I was upset…"

"And so was I buddy…so was I, she was my mom too but the difference was that I actually gave a damn about her" he hissed at him. Frank's eyes went wide with shock.

"You think I didn't care?" he whispered back.

"The only person you care about is Frank Goren" Bobby reminded him. Frank didn't reply, he couldn't because he knew that his brother was right. An awkward few seconds ensued before Frank sat forwards. Bobby watched him open an old cheap wallet and extract a small photo. He looked at it for a second and then laid it flat on the table. He pushed it towards Bobby who picked it up and looked at it.

"He doesn't look like you" he told him after a few moments went by.

"I know, that's what Patty said too but I think he looks like you" Bobby flicked a suspicious look at him and handed back the picture to him.

"Talk to me" he said.

Donny Carlson was nineteen years old and according to his father he was a seemingly good kid. What kind of explanation was that? _Seemingly? _He didn't look at him; he felt that if he did, he'd do something that he would later regret. That was the problem with his older brother; in his life he'd had opportunities. He possessed a sharp brain, had the potential to go far and make a success of his life and what had he done instead? He'd let it rot away thanks to alcohol, drugs and whatever else had caught his interest. He possessed a weakness, a self-destruct button that his father had also possessed. The family had expected Frank to be the smart one, they'd had no real expectations of their younger child and ironically he'd been the one to succeed. He'd been ever mindful of that self-destruct button in his DNA, it was always there, waiting and begging to be pushed. He was aware of it, of its potential but hadn't gone near it. Maybe teetered dangerously close but like a kind of Pandora's box, he'd never been curious enough to test its potency. He guessed that if he did press it hard enough then there would be no coming back for him.

"I got something for you Bobby…" he lifted his head and saw that Frank held something in his hand, wrapped in a white handkerchief. He put it on the table and pushed it across and reluctantly Bobby picked it up. With a quiet sigh he unwrapped it and his fingers paused as its mystery was uncovered. A ring. Mom's engagement ring. He just stared at it for a moment, trying to remember the last time he'd seen it. Finally he looked at him.

"I..." he paused and cleared his throat "I thought you would've pawned this…for sure I thought you would've sold it…" he frowned slightly and picked up the silvery diamond ring.

"Well you thought wrong. You should have it. I want you to have it" he then reached across and closed his brother's fist around it. Bobby looked at him for a long moment.

"Because you want to make sure that I'll co-operate?" Frank's eyes went wide again.

"No…no…I want you to have it because I know you'd appreciate it more…" Bobby held up a hand and gently shook his head. He took his own handkerchief out of his pocket and dropped the ring into it, folding it securely and putting it in his own pocket.

"So will you…?" Bobby raised reluctant eyes to his brother's face.

"Will I what?"

"See how Donny is? And help him if you can?"

"I'll see what I can do, but no promises, okay?" he got to his feet and walked away.

**tbc...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I hope this chapter posts, if not, blame the Fan Fiction Chapter Eater...Thank you for the earlier reviews. In this chapter, i've deliberately stayed away from Bobby's time in 'heaven' and instead dealt with the aftermath. This chapter deals with Alex's feelings and also the 'unexpected event'. Any errors are all my own. As always, thoughts appreciated.

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****Chapter Three: **

The first emotion she experienced was one of panic. As the guard opened the door to let them in, she felt it well up inside of her to almost overwhelm her. She took a deep breath and deliberately didn't look at anyone as she went inside. She saw him strapped to a metal table, similar almost to the one Rodgers used when conducting an autopsy. The meaning wasn't lost on her. Her pace quickened.

"Bobby…Bobby?" she touched his shoulder and shook it before placing two fingers against his neck. Then she looked up at her Captain.

"Detective Goren needs an ambulance" she told him.

* * *

They followed the ambulance to the nearby hospital. By the time they got into the building itself, Bobby was already in triage, being seen to and assessed. Alex waited alongside her Captain, alternating between feeling fearful that he wouldn't come out of whatever they had put him through back at the Correctional Facility, angry that he would do this in the first place over someone he barely knew and fury at the people who had willingly put him through this. It could also very possibly cost Goren his badge. She wanted to ask him whether it was worth it. 

It was much later and Bobby was stabilised. He was put into a room by himself; an IV in his arm feeding him much needed saline and other nutrients. Alex sat by his bedside and just watched him. The doctor treating him had told her that if he'd been left another twelve hours then it would've been too late. She resisted the urge to touch him. Right now he was mildly sedated and looked peaceful but she wondered at the types of scars that would be left when he got through this, whether they would be the kind to heal easily. God knew he didn't need any more trauma in his life right now.

She stayed with him through the night. She figured that if he woke up and there was nobody familiar here to reassure him then he just might panic. At least that was the reason she told herself. She just wanted to sit here and watch him. She wanted to watch each breath that he took and she watched his chest rise and fall. The Captain had visited earlier in the evening and dropped off his belongings from Tates. He had watched as she had unpacked everything, his jeans, a shirt and t-shirt and a chocolate brown suede jacket as well as his shoes and other essentials. It was all there, including his wallet, which had contained information announcing him to be William Brady. He had friends in some very secret places.

She hadn't realised she had fallen asleep until she heard the sound of his voice. She opened her eyes and looked his way and realised at the same time that the back of her neck and her back were killing her. She frowned and sat up straighter. Bobby was muttering under his breath while still locked in the realms of sleep. She sat forwards and tried to hear what it was that he was saying. It took her a moment to realise that he was counting and it was in reverse, from ten down to one. He was growing restless, his hands flexing and his arms were twitching as if against an invisible restraint.

"_Ten, nine eight seven six…not crazy…I'm not crazy…five four three two one, I need some water here…take my pills…no…no…don't leave me…"_ It sent shivers down her spine. She got out of her seat and ignored protesting muscles. She sat on the side of his bed and gently touched his face.

"Bobby... wake up, you're having a nightmare" she told him and stroked his forehead. He was warm to the touch. She waited for him to wake, to open his eyes and look at her. Then he would apologise. His eyes rolled beneath the lids and she kept talking to him. Eventually he quietened and then he was still. Instead of returning to her seat, she remained where she was and looked down at his hands and she saw the red raw bruises circling his wrists. She gently picked up one of his hands and held onto it.

She woke up a second time with the sounds of the hospital coming to life. She looked back at Bobby and saw he still slept. Whatever they had given him, it had knocked him out but good. She stood up, stretched and groaned quietly.

She sipped at the coffee gratefully, feeling the caffeine kick start her central nervous system. She walked along the corridor, back to his room and at the same time heard an almighty crash. She quickened her step as she heard him begin to shout. What the hell was he shouting about? She stopped in the doorway and saw him out of bed, wearing the hospital robe and looking extremely upset. A nurse was trying to coax him back in and the crash had come from a tray that now lay upended on the floor, its contents splattered everywhere.

"What the hell is going on here? Where am I?" he demanded with his usual brand of angry belligerence. He caught sight of his partner as she entered the room. The nurse turned her head and looked at her over her shoulder.

" Could you please explain to Detective Goren that he needs to _rest_!" she exclaimed. Alex moved closer to her partner and placed a conciliatory hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon Bobby, do as you're told for once and get back into bed" he frowned at her.

"Who the hell are you?" he yelled and she rolled her eyes.

"Cut the crap Goren, you know who I am…now get back into bed…" her hand slid down to his arm and he shook it off.

"No…I don't know who you are…get off me, I'm getting out of here...where the hell are my damned clothes?" Alex stared at him in shock, feeling her entire body go cold.

"Bobby this is not funny…it's me, Alex…your partner" she explained. He looked at her.

"No disrespect…_Alex_… but you're not my type" he flashed a brief insincere smile at her and turned towards the bathroom.

"Hey, stop it, listen to me…your name is Robert Goren, you're forty six years old and you are a detective at the Major Case Squad in New York!" she lowered her voice.

"That's it, I'm calling for psych services…" the nurse attending to him told them and Alex was barely aware of her leaving as she stared at Bobby. He was looking at her as if he had honestly never seen her before.

"You really don't remember do you?" He stared at her with wide eyes and eventually he shook his head. She sighed raggedly.

"Great. Just…great. But for now, just humour me okay? Get back in the damn bed" her tone brooked no argument and he turned his head and looked at it.

"I need to get out of here," he told her

"Why? If you don't remember anything, why the hell do you need to get out of here?" she asked in exasperation. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

"Can I at least go to the bathroom?" he demanded instead and she took a step back and indicated where he should go and watched as he stumbled towards it, dragging the IV and pole along with him. The door closed and with a loud sigh, Alex dropped down on the side of his bed and covered her face with her hands. This was all that she needed.

**_tbc..._**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. Just a word of warning, if you're expecting major Goren angst then you're going to be disappointed. There's just a little bit... and i****'m not a psychiatrist, i'm writing Bobby's story as i imagine it to be. All errors are my own and are not intentional. Again, thoughts appreciated.

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****Chapter Four:**

She turned her head when she heard the flush of the toilet and then a moment or two later the door opened and Bobby appeared, still dragging the IV pole.

"Now will you get back into bed?" she demanded. His eyes rounded slightly.

"Okay, okay, if it'll stop you yelling at me" he muttered and headed back to his bed. She watched him climb obediently back inside. She, in the meantime busied herself with rescuing his breakfast tray, picking up strewn silverware and plates. She could imagine that he'd scared the nurse half to death with his temper.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up after you," she retorted, straightening up. She placed the tray on the portable table at the bottom of his bed.

"You do that a lot?" she smiled to herself. He had no idea sometimes.

"Just once or twice" she turned and looked at him, walking closer to him.

"What's the last thing that you remember?" she asked him and watched him frown.

"Getting on a bus," he told her after a lengthy pause.

"Anything before that?" Another pause and eventually, frustratingly, he shook his head.

"Sorry. Nothing. Why can't I remember anything?" Alex sighed loudly.

"I don't know Bobby…you've had a tough time recently, maybe it's because of that" His expression became curious.

"A tough…time?" He watched her scratch her head and knew that she was about to take a step into unsafe territory.

"It's okay…you don't have to…explain…I'd rather remember by myself," he told her quietly and he pretended that he didn't see the relief in her eyes.

* * *

"He has _what?"_ Ross demanded.

"They think its some kind of amnesia. The psychiatrist is in with him now" Alex explained, hardly able to believe it herself. He slowly shook his head in disbelief.

"Unbelievable" he murmured. He then returned his attention to Alex.

" What do you think caused this…memory loss? Something that happened to him at Tates?" Alex shrugged.

"It's possible…we may get an idea after the shrink finishes talking to Bobby.

"So what now?"

"We wait. It's all that we can do" she straightened as the door to Bobby's room opened and the psychiatrist, Dr Michael Fisher, emerged. He was a tall thin guy with fiery red hair and pale jade green eyes. He saw them and walked towards them, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"So?" Ross enquired.

"He's a very interesting guy once I can get him to open up. Fiercely intelligent but he does seem to be suffering from some kind of memory loss. Subconsciously he seems to be blocking out a traumatic event…or events" he watched the two detectives exchange a long look.

"You know what it is he's blocking out?"

"Not exactly…but he's just come out of an undercover assignment, it could be connected to that" the Captain explained. The doctor nodded slowly.

"So what happens next?" Alex interrupted. Fisher sighed.

"Physically he's fine, theoretically he could be discharged today…"

"But realistically you'd like to keep him in for another day or two" she continued and the doctor nodded.

"His memory could come back at any time, today, tomorrow, weeks or months down the line or it may never return, it's all down to the detective and what he wants to remember" he explained.

"He doesn't like being told what to do…he'll want to leave" Ross informed him.

"Well for a day or two, I'd like him to do as he's told and remain here…unless he has some important family ties…somewhere that he needs to be that can't wait?"

"Like a wife? Goren isn't married. He has…no one" The doctor seemed surprised by this.

"Really?" Alex only nodded.

* * *

She saw Bobby was sitting on the side of his bed and a deep frown marred his brow. She also noticed that the IV drip had gone too, a plaster taped over where the needle had been in place.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked as she walked towards him. He turned his head slightly.

"I'm trying to remember…" he murmured quietly.

"All you'll get is a really bad headache if you try to force it" he sighed and rubbed his forehead with long fingers.

"Too late huh?" he glanced at her again.

"Yeah"

"I'll call a nurse and get you something for it"

"It's okay…" She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Don't be a hero Goren…not now"

"Meaning that I must do it…a lot?"

"On occasion" She went to his bedside and pushed the button to call a nurse.

"This occasion?" She smiled, still with the questions.

"Just be sure to take the damned pills…"

'_I'll take the pills…just let me out!'_ it flashed lightning quick through his memory and it made him catch his breath. It had been his own voice he'd heard, begging to be let out, but out of where? He frowned, ignoring the swelling pain in his head. Alex saw him start and she frowned.

"What, you remembered something?" he looked at her, wincing as the pain in his head seemed to increase.

"I don't know…" he touched his forehead. His head felt ready to explode. Nausea rolled ominously in his stomach. Alex opened her mouth to press him further but at that time a nurse appeared.

The pain medication made him sleepy and she watched him try to fight it. Damn him, why did every little thing have to be a battle for him? She placed a gentle hand on his forehead.

"Don't fight it Bobby, just go to sleep," she urged him quietly. She watched his eyes drift closed and his body relax as he allowed sleep to claim him.

**_tbc..._**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Again thanks to those who took the time to read and leave a review, they are always appreciated. Again, the character of Michael Fisher is my own. All errors, while unintentional, are mine too.

* * *

****Chapter Five:**

He was awake when she arrived the following morning.

He noticed the bag that she carried immediately and she held it up.

"Pyjamas…that robe is seriously starting to scare the nurses" she dropped the bag on his lap and he frowned, opening it.

"I don't…" he paused and looked at her.

"You don't wear pyjamas? How do you know that?"

"I have no idea, I just know that I just don't," he murmured and she watched him pull the navy blue sweatpants and grey t-shirt out of the bag.

"These aren't…" he let the words fade away as he took out underwear, a toothbrush, paste, a razor and shaving foam. He looked at her, a little embarrassed, and then away again.

"Uh…thanks…I'll pay you back…whenever…" his voice faded away again.

"Don't worry about it, I know you're good for it" she commented. Again he looked at her.

"Am I?" Alex paused, belatedly remembering that right now, his usually sharply focused memory bank was temporarily off line.

"Yes you are," she confirmed. She watched as he delved into the bag again and took out a current best selling paperback. He liked mysteries for the most part but more often than not he figured out the culprit by the fourth or fifth chapter and so far he hadn't been wrong yet.

"How long have we worked together…in where was it?" he looked back at her.

"Major Case…and close to seven years now" she informed him. He tilted his head to one side.

"Seven years" he regarded her.

"Really?" she just nodded. He returned his attention to the paperback.

"We work well together? I mean we must do if we've been partners for this long…"

"We've had our ups and downs… but for the most part, yes we do" she took a little pride in that. Yeah, things had been a little shaky between them recently but that was more on her part than anything else.

"Are you married?" the question was so sudden, so out of the blue that she caught her breath. Again he lifted his head and he looked at her.

"I'm sorry, that was way too personal…it just came out before I could stop myself" He had seen the way she'd reacted and he got the impression that where their personal lives were concerned, they were pretty much off limits to each other.

"I'm… widowed…" Something flashed behind his eyes at that revelation.

"Joe" he breathed, staring off into space. Alex held her breath and watched him. His eyes flicked back to hers.

"He died in the line of duty. Some kid called me a whack job" the frown reappeared.

"Yeah, that happened" she replied, her voice quiet. It would seem that his memory was indeed starting to return, just in bits and pieces and not making much sense at the moment.

"Is that what I am? A whack job?" he sounded disbelieving and she swallowed. He'd been called much worse but she'd never known whether he'd been bothered by it or not.

"I don't think so, but you do like to think outside of the box" she told him instead. He sighed loudly.

"You know, whatever. People can call me what they like, I don't care anymore," he muttered with a slight shake of his head. He looked at her again and saw the expression on her face. She looked pensive.

"What do you want to ask me?" he asked her eventually. She took a couple of tentative steps towards him and then paused and folded her arms.

"You were…undercover…for a while…and the name you used was William Brady…" she paused, gauging his reaction.

"And?" Alex scratched her head before looking at him again.

"Maybe it was just a coincidence…but the name Brady popped up in a case a few months ago…"

'_I never knew for sure. I'm sorry'_ This time it was a woman's voice, so apologetic, so damned _familiar_. He tried to grab hold of the memory but it whispered away.

"It was just a coincidence," he told her huskily. Alex nodded.

"Okay"

* * *

He felt better having actual proper fitting clothes on, even if it was just a pair of navy blue sweatpants and a t-shirt. He'd washed and brushed his teeth, staring at his reflection in the mirror as he did. Alex had said he was forty-six years old but he looked older. Maybe it was the grey in his hair, the bags under his eyes or the weight. Something told him he didn't always used to be like this.

He paced the length and width of his room. He'd begun to read the book Alex had bought for him but guessed the culprit less than half way through and tossed it to one side a little while later. The window of his room opened out onto a small square courtyard and he watched the comings and goings with a little interest. To put it plainly, he was bored out of his mind. He slowly turned and stopped short when he saw the kid standing in his door way.

He looked to be about eighteen years old. His hair was dark blond, overlong and wildly curly and peach fuzz covered his jaw line. Bobby stared at him, feeling as though he should recognise him.

"Uncle Bobby?" That made him pause.

_Uncle?_

What should he say apart from who the hell are you? He watched him walk towards him.

"Are you okay? I called my dad, he told me that you were here, though how he knew I don't know but I had to come see you, find out if you were okay"

"Hey, slow down kid…" Bobby interrupted before he could take another breath and plunge on again. Already he felt dizzy from keeping up with him. There were two new pieces of information here, one was that he had a brother and two, he was an uncle. Both remained blanks in his memory.

"You're gonna have to tell me your name…I have a black hole where my memory is supposed to be" he explained apologetically. The boy stared at him in shock.

"Oh my God what did they do to you in heaven?" he breathed.

"Okay, I'm completely… confused now…heaven?" he watched the boy sit on the side of the empty bed. He was a little twitchy and on edge. He kept looking towards the door.

"The place they took Jay in Tates, the same place where they took you. Don't you see? I had to do it before they killed you too, because they were going to, I could see it in their eyes…" the flow of words halted when Bobby raised a hand. His head was beginning to hurt again.

"I'm… okay…what did you do?" the kid stared at him.

"I escaped. I faked being sick and got away. I did it for you, they were going to kill you in there…I couldn't let them do that" he stood up and began to pace. Bobby watched him in complete bewilderment. The pain in his head was killing him.

"Hey. Slow down and tell me your name," he demanded. The kid stopped and looked at him again in shock.

"I'm Donny, Uncle Bobby, Donny Carlson"

* * *

Michael Fisher strode along the corridor and saw the boy leaving Bobby Goren's room. He frowned as he hurried by, obviously wanting to get out of the place as quickly as he could and that made him curious. Maybe words had been said. He paused and turned his head but the kid was out of sight. He slowly shook his head and kept on walking.

**_tbc..._**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This is the final chapter. Michael Fisher appears in this but just as his role as a psychiatrist/therapist, he has no major role in this fic. Again, thank you to those of you who took the time to read and leave a review. As always, it's appreciated. Again...errors and such like, while non intentional are, unfortunately all my own. Please read and let me know what you think. Thanks for taking the time to read this and Happy Christmas to you all!

* * *

****Chapter Six:**

His patient sat on the side of his bed and he held his head in his hands. Fisher knocked gently on the door but he didn't react.

"Detective Goren?" he kept his voice soft as he ventured inside. Still the detective didn't move. Slowly Dr Fisher approached him.

"Bobby? Are you okay?" he came around the bottom of the bed, not taking his eyes off him for a second. He hadn't acknowledged his presence at all since he had entered. Eventually, slowly, Bobby lowered his hands. He looked at him.

"Are you alright?" After a moment Bobby slowly nodded.

"Want to talk about it?" he offered.

"Not…particularly…" Bobby replied.

"Okay. Want to tell me who your visitor was?" he watched him open his mouth as if to dispute the fact that he'd had a visitor.

"He said…" he paused and sighed. Then he shook his head.

"He said he was my…nephew…" he admitted. Dr Fisher slowly nodded.

"You don't remember him" Bobby looked away.

"I barely remember my own name" he muttered and moved back on his bed, swinging his legs around and resting his head on his pillow. Dr Fisher got the message loud and clear; Detective Goren didn't want to talk to him today. He sighed. He'd popped his head in once or twice and each time he'd gotten the brush off from the taller man.

"Your nephew's visit didn't jog anything?" he persevered. He watched Goren close his eyes.

"No" he answered bluntly and Dr Fisher swallowed against his growing sense of frustration. Depression was common in someone who had lost any part of his or her memory and judging by the dark expression in his patient's face, it had hit him too.

"Would you tell me if you had?"

"No"

"I'm here to help you Detective" he clarified. Goren didn't open his eyes.

"Then leave me alone" he stated instead.

* * *

He barely spoke all the way back to the city. He preferred to stare out of the window and Alex wondered what was going through his mind.

"You okay?" she asked him quietly. He turned his head and looked at her. A few seconds passed.

"I'm fine Eames" he replied and turned his head again. Alex frowned. There was a short silence.

"You called me Eames" he looked at her again.

"Did I? Don't I always call you that?" his tone was disinterested.

"Yeah…but…"

"What?" his tone became exasperated. He was tired of it all, the blanks in his memory, the kid gloves treatment. He wanted to scream, wanted to throw something. Most of all he wanted everyone to leave him alone. Once back in his apartment, he could do that; be by himself.

Alex sighed quietly.

"Your memory's starting to come back" It wasn't even a question. He just nodded.

"Fisher said it would," she told him.

"Who? …Oh" Alex just shook her head. Fisher had discharged Bobby earlier than he would've liked to but Bobby had withdrawn into himself and wouldn't talk to anyone. That was one aspect of his behaviour she had hoped would take its time in returning but no such luck. He was as close mouthed as he always was when talking about himself.

She didn't wait for an invitation up to his apartment; she parked her SUV and followed him anyway. If this annoyed him then he didn't show it.

She handed him his keys at the door. He had entrusted them to her along with his cell phone before he'd left. She waited as he unlocked the door and went inside before following him inside.

He stood in the middle of his living room. He looked around at the Spartan décor, at the crammed bookshelves. He frowned slightly. It felt as though if he reached out, he'd almost be able to touch his memories, remember what it was that made him the man he was supposed to be. As it was, it felt like there was a gossamer fine veil shielding them, memories came and went so fleetingly that it was beginning to frustrate him and that just made him all the more short tempered. He turned and looked at his partner.

"I'll be okay, I promise," he told her in a soft voice.

* * *

The quietness of the place was starting to get to him. He had already guessed that he was pretty much a solitary soul who enjoyed his own company. He also owned a hell of a lot of books. He walked slowly around the room and paused when he saw the small black and white photograph propped up beside a phone. He picked it up and scrutinised it. It was old, had to be over forty years old and of a woman who posed quite happily for the photographer. She was wearing a black and white checked suit that fit her curves like a second skin. Her hair was cut short, dark in colour and she had a beautiful confident smile on her face. He turned it over and saw 'November 1960' written on the back. He flipped it back over.

' _I got it at Gimballs for a song…' _her voice filled his head and realisation struck him at the same time. He felt emotion surge through him. It was of grief, pure unadulterated grief.

"Ma" he breathed and felt his eyes tear up. He touched the photo with the top of a long finger. How could he have forgotten his own mother?

'Oh God, mom'

* * *

_He didn't want to go back in there. It made him crazy, lying in that hot airless room with nothing but his rapidly deteriorating thoughts for company. The heat made him thirsty and it was all that he could think about. He needed water. The more that he thought about it, the more desperate he became. His requests were ignored; they told him to be quiet. Didn't they understand that if they gave him what he wanted then he would be quiet? Apparently not. Unless that was what they got off on._

_What time was it? He opened his eyes. The metal was unrelenting on his back; it's hardness burning into pressure points. His eyes burned from the lights, feeling as though someone had tossed a handful of sand into them. He was so hot and yeah, thirsty too. How long had he been in here? Ten nine eight…he frowned as the next number didn't come to him as easily as it should've done. He scrabbled around in his memory for it. Oh yeah, that was it, seven…six… _

_No one was listening to him anymore. The world felt like it was going grey around him. He could barely open his eyes…._

Robert Goren woke up with a start and stared up at a night-darkened ceiling. His heart began to slow as he realised that he was safe, he wasn't in that room anymore, the room that Donny had called 'heaven'. He lay still for a moment. He'd been strapped to a table in that room, his wrists and ankles tethered, a chain over his hips and he'd been left alone. He sat up and wiped his face. It had been a nightmare but he knew that it hadn't been a dream; it hadn't been a figment of his imagination but a reality of fact. He turned his head slightly and looked at the digital numbers of his bedside alarm. It was just after five thirty and the city was still in night mode. He was wide awake now and he remembered everything.

He went inwards as he remembered what had happened in Tates. He remembered how he had got in there in the first place and how he had persuaded Eames that he needed her help. She'd been reluctant at first but she had seen how important it was to him, to get Donny to safety, away from the guards, away from that place. He shouldn't have been there in the first place. Now apart from his visit at the hospital, Donny Carlson was in the wind and Bobby didn't know where to look first.

* * *

Alex saw him emerge from the Captain's office and his expression was shuttered. She knew that he'd been suspended; under the circumstances he'd been lucky to emerge with his badge. She'd escaped with a reprimand on her jacket. She watched him walk slowly towards her. Ross had asked for his gun and his badge and he'd surrendered them both without an argument.

"Bobby…" she murmured as he came close enough to hear. He glanced at her. His expression was dark, tired and dare she even think it, but also defeated? True fear shimmied through her.

"I'll be okay," he told her just as quietly. She turned as he walked past her and to his desk. She watched him pick up his folder and a couple of his ever present books. She strode towards him and he glanced at her again.

"You'll stay in touch won't you? " he just nodded.

"I will," he told her but she wasn't sure whether he meant it. She glanced around and saw Ross standing in the doorway of his office. Bobby glanced over also before affording his partner a second look.

"I'll see you soon" he promised. She could only nod and then watch him walk away.

'_I'm not broken'_ he thought as he walked along the corridor towards the elevator bank. Despite everything that had happened, he may have bowed, even fractured a little but he hadn't broken. He stopped and pushed the button and waited. It would've been easy, he realised, to have given in, to let them win but his absolute determination had held him together but only just. He kept his true emotions shackled in an iron strong box and ignored the straining at the edges. It would hold…for now. He just needed to find Donny and take it from there. He watched as the door slid open and he stepped inside. The door slid closed behind him.

He'd find his nephew, the rest he would deal with later.

**FIN**


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